


The Sun Will Rise And We Will Try Again

by IWriteSinsNotStraightLines



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale is a Good Boyfriend, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Stiles Stilinski And Derek Hale Are Both Nerds, Stiles Stilinski Needs Some Sleep, The Hale Pack - Freeform, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteSinsNotStraightLines/pseuds/IWriteSinsNotStraightLines
Summary: The five times Derek was there for Stiles to wake up to and the one time they were able to wake up with each other.
Relationships: (Implied) Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, (Implied) Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, (Mentioned) Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott Mccall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 24
Kudos: 334
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	1. Choose Not The Life Of Imitation

**Author's Note:**

> What's up, everybody? I hope you all are having an awesome day, week, month and year despite everything that has been going on around us lately. I've gotten a lot of asks for more works with chapters lately, so I figured I would post something that wasn't a one shot for once. Yay! However, because I suck and writer's block is a bitch if I ever saw one, this is not a chapter work with like an actual plot line long enough for it to need chapters. It's a 5+1, but I promise an actual chapter fic is coming very, very soon! I won't keep it from you guys forever, I promise.   
> The title of the work as a whole comes from the song "Truce" by Twenty-One Pilots. All of the chapters titles come from "Can't Stop" by Red Hot Chili Peppers.   
> Anyways, on with the fic! Feedback is always appreciated!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles- who apparently was dedicating his life to proving Derek wrong about anything and everything- was asleep on his couch, snoring quietly.

Derek unlocked his front door, balancing a grocery bag against his hip with his other hand. 

He sighed-- he knew shopping wasn’t the most productive thing he could do right now, but it _was_ one of the most distracting. Besides, it wasn’t like he could do much about the real problem until Stiles and Lydia figured out the weak point on fucking goblins. 

Assuming there was one at all. 

He slid the door open enough to get through and then tugged it close behind him, locking it mostly out of habit. 

No one was stupid enough to break into an alpha werewolf’s den. 

Derek turned to put the food away and huffed, rolling his eyes. 

Stiles- who apparently was _dedicating his life_ to proving Derek wrong about anything and everything- was asleep on his couch, snoring quietly. 

He looked absolutely ridiculous-- he was situated mostly upside-down with his upper body on the couch and his legs thrown up along the top of it, mouth open and eyelashes casting dainty shadows across his cheeks. One of his arms was tucked neatly under his head and the other was splayed over his stomach. 

He was cute and utterly human, but Derek refused to be charmed by the adorable asshole who broke into his loft. 

“How can you even _stay_ in that position?” he grumbled, even though he knew he wouldn’t get an answer. 

He put away the groceries and made sure everything was where it should be- Stiles had an affinity for organizing his thoughts into piles that Derek would never understand- before debating what the best method to wake him up was. 

Finally, he settled for gently shaking his shoulder, “Hey, Stiles. Come on, pup, you gotta get up. Stiles.” 

Derek frowned when Stiles just mumbled out something unintelligible and turned his face further into his bicep. 

He tried again, “Stiles, come on, wake up, pup.” 

Stiles shot up, eyes opening wide as he yelped and took a swing at Derek’s face. 

It was a good punch and one Derek wasn’t expecting. 

It narrowly missed his nose as he sprang onto his feet and away from the couch, holding his hands up in surrender as Stiles finally looked at him, chest heaving. 

“Derek? Oh, god-- did I just try to _hit_ you? I’m _so_ sorry and I swear that wasn’t intentional but- oh my god- are you okay? Did I actually-” 

He cut himself off, inspecting Derek’s face with narrowed eyes. 

He let him, edging towards Stiles. 

“You didn’t actually hit me, Stiles. I’m alright. I just wasn’t expecting it-- kind of like how I wasn’t expecting to come home and find you napping on my couch.” 

Stiles shrugged, unabashed, “You gave me a key.” 

“For emergencies.” 

“I would like to think my sleep is important enough to warrant a nap emergency involving your ridiculously comfortable couch.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, lip twitching with amusement. 

Stiles flipped him off, sticking out his tongue, “Leave your eyebrows of doom out of this, dude. I did actually come here with a purpose not concerning sleep, but you weren’t home and I figured I would just wait for you.” 

Derek hummed, heading to the kitchen and listening to make sure Stiles followed him-- he could at least stay for dinner. 

He did, plopping down on one of the bar stools while Derek started cooking. 

“So I was doing some research on goblins last night-” 

Derek glared at him for that-- it made sense why he had passed out on his couch now. 

“- oh, don’t give me that. I wasn’t sleeping anyways and decided to be productive. But I got in touch with this witch in Montana who has a _patented_ method for dealing with them and…” 

Derek let Stiles bounce from one tangent to another as he cooked, content to listen as he took the scenic root to the point. He made a summary of it in the back of his mind, figuring he could call a pack meeting the next day and they could deal with it then. 

Midway through Stiles’ rant about the uselessness of raccoons, he slid a bowl of pasta in front of him, encouraging him to eat in the breaths between his words. 

Derek offered minimal feedback, but Stiles seemed happy enough to fill in the gaps for him. 

They drafted a basic plan to deal with the goblins, and Derek sent Stiles home with a full belly and twice as much sleep as he had prior to coming. 


	2. Can't Stop (Ever Wonder If It's All For You?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles missed a meeting.  
> Stiles never missed meetings, and despite Scott’s many, many assurances that he was at home with the flu and in no immediate danger, Derek worried.

Stiles missed a meeting. 

Stiles _never_ missed meetings, and despite Scott’s many, _many_ assurances that he was at home with the flu and in no immediate danger, Derek worried. 

A lot. 

To the point where Cora looked up at him and his pacing from the couch, pointedly raised an eyebrow and said, “You know you can just go and check on him, right? He’s sick-- go do the boyfriend thing and bring him soup or something.”

Derek picked up his keys, scowling, and grumbled, “He’s _not_ my boyfriend.” 

He shrugged on his jacket and left the loft to Cora’s disbelieving snort. 

He stopped at a little _bodega_ on his way to the Stilinskis' to get some tortilla soup-- the kind his mom would make when he was a kid. 

The Sheriff’s cruiser was missing from the driveway, meaning Stiles was alone. 

Derek pulled his Camaro into the spot by Stiles’ Jeep- now that the Sheriff was in the know, he could blame his presence on business within the pack- and idly considered going through the window, when his phone buzzed. 

‘ **I can hear the Camaro, dumbass. I put a spare key in w/ ur others. Don’t come in thru the window like a stalker-- u make my neighbors nervous,** ’ the text read. 

He searched his keys and found that yes, he now had one to their front door. Derek huffed fondly as he closed and locked it behind him. 

Clever pup. 

He climbed the stairs up, following Stiles’ scent to his room. 

He knocked on the door, frowning when the smell of illness made his nose itch. 

“You can come in,” he heard Stiles mumble. 

Derek opened the door, stepped into the room and closed it behind him. 

Stiles looked like the very definition of miserable, wrapped up in blankets and squinting at him even though his room was dark. His wastebasket had been moved to reside next to his bed, half-filled with used tissues. A mostly empty bottle of painkillers was placed on his nightstand, next to his charging phone and right in his reach. 

Derek set the soup down on his cluttered desk and crouched next to his bed, reaching up to gently touch Stiles’ forehead with the back of his hand. 

His skin was feverish and clammy, warm to even Derek. 

“You’re burning up,” he murmured, frowning. 

Stiles made a non-committal sound, “Can’t take any more meds for a half-hour. Have to wait it out.” 

Derek cupped Stiles’ face, brows furrowing as he drew away the aching soreness. 

The pain of illness wasn’t something he had much experience with. He was a werewolf, and thus, he hadn’t ever gotten sick himself. Of course, he had human family members who would occasionally catch illnesses growing up, but normally his mom had been the one to take care of them. 

It felt strange when he took it, making his wolf huff uncomfortably. 

Stiles relaxed, sagging, after the hurt was gone. Derek checked his forehead again, nodding decisively when he found it to be cooler. 

“Have you been able to eat anything today?” 

Stiles frowned, thinking, “Not that I’ve been able to keep down.” 

Derek stood, retrieving the carton of soup, the bottle of water and a plastic spoon from the bag on the desk. 

“You brought me soup?” Stiles asked, sounding awed. 

Derek shrugged awkwardly, “I haven’t been around a lot of sickness, but I know when I was younger, my mom would make it for the humans in our pack if they weren’t feeling well. My dad used to say that it would always help him, so I figured it couldn’t hurt.” 

Stiles gave him a soft, considering look before slowly sitting up on his bed. Derek helped him, taking most of his weight as he leaned against the headboard. 

He pulled the lid off of the carton, stirring it gently. He sat on the bed beside Stiles and- eyeing his shaking fingers- brought the spoon to him, feeding him little bits of avocado and broth. 

Stiles didn’t comment, just quietly ate more and more of the soup as he gave it to him, until the carton was empty. Derek tossed it and the spoon into the trash. 

“Have you had any water?” 

Stiles shook his head, “I figured if I wasn’t able to keep food down, water wasn’t happening either.” 

“You won’t get better if you’re dehydrated,” Derek told him. 

He unscrewed the cap from the water and handed it to Stiles, who was able to hold it still while he drank, downing half of it without taking a breath. Derek fished some Tylenol out of the bottle and handed it to him, taking the water back and setting it on his nightstand after he swallowed the pills. 

He grasped Stiles’ hand, searching for more pain, and stole what he could find, black veins racing hurriedly up his arm and into his chest. 

“Feel a little better?” Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded, yawning as he laid back down on his pillows, eyes drooping. He curled up under his covers, giving Derek a weak smile. 

“Will you stay with me?” Stiles slurred, his eyes closed. “Be here when I wake up?” 

Derek swallowed against the lump in his throat, the racing in his chest. His wolf snapped at him impatiently, demanding he answer when Stiles actually _wanted_ him there. 

“Of course, pup,” he whispered. 

“Good,” Stiles mumbled. “Thanks, Der.” 

Derek didn’t answer, just swept his hair back out of his eyes as he finally fell asleep. He settled into Stiles’ desk chair, pulling up emails on his phone. 

He would wait as long as Stiles needed him to. 

***

Stiles didn’t sleep for very long, which worried Derek, but he figured because his scent, pain levels and fever weren’t getting worse, he was getting better. 

Derek closed out of the message he’d been writing, tucking his phone back into his pocket as Stiles blinked awake, pretty brown eyes focusing slowly. 

“Der?” he asked, voice rough from sleep. 

“I’m over here, Stiles.” 

“Just checking,” he yawned, stretching. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

“A lot better than I did before you showed up,” he grinned at Derek, even though it was still fatigued. 

Derek nodded, and got up to pass him the water bottle. 

“Finish that. I’ll go get you another.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, but took it anyways, mumbling something that sounded a lot like “yes, mom.” 

Derek closed Stiles’ door behind him, padding softly down the stairs to the fridge, where he grabbed two waters- because he worries, okay- and wondered if he should’ve brought Tylenol when he came. 

And then, because apparently the universe just hates him, the lock on the front door slid out of place and in walked Noah Stilinski. 

The sheriff- who didn’t even look surprised, _why didn’t he look surprised_ \- eyed Derek, considering. 

“Is there a reason why you’re raiding my fridge, Hale?” 

Derek swallowed, damning himself in as many languages as he could think in offhand. 

“Stiles is sick, sir. He missed the pack meeting today and I figured I would come check on him.” 

Noah scratched at his chin, setting his gun on the kitchen table. 

Derek hoped he hadn’t been given any wolfsbane bullets. 

“He texted me this morning and told me he caught the flu. How’s he doing?” 

“Better,” Derek assured him. “He was running a fever when I got here, but it’s gone away now. He hasn’t been drinking much water, so I came down here to grab more.” 

Noah sized him up again, before nodding decisively, like Derek randomly showing up to care for his sick son was a perfectly acceptable reason for him to be in his kitchen, and something to be completely expected. 

“Tell him I’m home when you’re up there,” he told him, and brushed past him to inspect the contents of his cupboards. 

Derek nodded, “Yes, sir.” 

He climbed the stairs quickly, ignoring the way his wolf growled proudly at the way he had handled that. He opened the door and shut it behind him, his pulse racing. 

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “What happened?” 

Derek set the water bottles down on his nightstand, “Your dad is home.” 

Stiles squinted at him, like he was trying to figure him out, before snorting loudly, “Oh my god, the big bad alpha is afraid of my Pops?” 

“He did arrest me once, to be fair.” 

Stiles stifled a chuckle into the palm of his hand, “Der, I’ve seen you deadlift the weight of a small car. And you’re afraid of my _dad_? The guy who refuses to kill the spiders he finds in the house?” 

“He’s very intimidating,” Derek mumbled, sheepish. 

“Yep, that’s my alpha-- tough as marshmallows.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and unscrewed the cap on one of the waters, “Drink this.” 

Stiles took it from him, sipping at it until it could be tossed into the trash with the other. 

He checked his pain once more, cradling his jaw as he took what there was. It wasn’t very much-- he doubted Stiles would feel completely better the next day, but at least he would be capable of getting out of bed on his own. 

“I think you’ll be alright for now,” he told him, pulling away. 

He stuffed the plastic bag from the _bodega_ into the trash, balling it up. 

“Hey, Der?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, looking up with concern. 

Stiles smiled at him, his scent happy and warm for the first time since Derek arrived hours earlier. 

“Thank you. For everything.” 

Derek nodded, swallowing his feelings, “No problem.” 


	3. Use My Hands For Everything But Steering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek could clearly feel the moment Stiles fell asleep on him.

Derek could clearly feel the moment Stiles fell asleep on him. 

It was pack night, and they had decided to watch some horror movie hat looked cheap next to what they had dealt with before. 

He hadn’t been paying much attention to it-- how could he, when Stiles had dropped down beside him and burrowed under his arm and into his side, claiming he needed the Big Bad Wolf to protect him from the ridiculous graphics of the movie’s villain. 

Derek had swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth and let him, his wolf purring contentedly when he could hear the peace Stiles felt in his steady pulse and smell it in his scent. 

He had unintentionally tightened his hold when Stiles jumped during a scene and had been readily prepared to back off, but Stiles had only hummed and pressed closer, eyelids drooping. 

Which is how Derek ended up with his arms full of sleeping Stiles. 

The movie ended not long after, and Isaac helped make up the couch so Derek could transfer Stiles to it, pulling a blanket over him. 

Scott gave him a small smile, “Want me to take him home?” 

“No, let him sleep-- you know as well as I do that he hasn’t been. If he wakes up and wants to go home, I’ll drive him.” 

Scott nodded, and Derek gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze. 

He closed the loft door behind his betas and bid Isaac good night as he headed off to his own room, yawning. 

Derek cleaned up, tossing dishes into the sink to wash later and throwing away pizza boxes and half-empty sodas. 

He checked on Stiles once more before taking a shower and heading off to bed himself. 

***

A scream shattered the quiet stillness of the loft, splitting the air. 

Derek woke with a start, tearing the covers off and racing out of his room. 

There weren’t any visible attackers-- just Stiles, sitting upright and panting, looking haunted. 

Isaac ran out from his room only seconds after Derek, his eyes glinting gold in the darkness. He gave Derek a questioning look but he waved him off-- everything was okay and he could go back to sleep. He nodded and shuffled back to his bedroom as Derek moved forward and kneeled down in front of Stiles.

“Stiles? Hey, what’s going on?” 

Stiles shuddered, big brown eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears. 

Derek reached out and took his hand, rubbing soothing circles onto his knuckles with his thumb. 

“I heard you scream. Nightmares again?” he asked finally. 

Stiles nodded, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, denting the fragile skin. Derek drew closer, sitting next to him on the couch. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Stiles. You’re alright. Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmured, cupping his jaw and gently drawing his abused lip out of harm’s way. 

Stiles stared, shocked. 

Derek cursed himself internally, awkward and certain he overstepped, and began to draw back but Stiles threw himself forward. 

He wound his arms around Derek’s shoulders and tucked his face near his throat, shaking. 

Derek rumbled softly- a trick he picked up for soothing anxious pups- and tugged him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him. 

Eventually, Stiles pulled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, broad shoulders curling in on himself. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, waiting for him to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to be sorry when you haven’t done anything wrong, okay? You’re alright.” 

Stiles frowned, thoughtful, but nodded, the sour guilt in his scent fading away. 

“You want to get some more sleep?” 

Stiles shook his head. 

“You want me to drive you home? I know your dad is at work but-” 

Stiles cut him off, looking smaller than he’d ever seen him, “Can I stay? I can be quiet and stay on my phone or something.” 

“You can stay if you want but I’m not making you sit in the dark by yourself.” 

He checked his phone-- 4:46 AM. 

“You want to shower and go get breakfast? I can give you a shirt to wear.” 

Stiles lit up, scampering off to his bedroom to steal his clothes and his shower because he swore it had better water pressure than the one everyone else in the pack could use. 

Derek snorted and wrote a note for Isaac, realizing he’d gladly get up at 4:46 every morning if he got to see Stiles smile like that. 


	4. You Know The Truth As Some Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was 2:57 AM.

Derek’s phone pinged loudly, waking him. 

He groaned- seriously hoping there wasn’t a supernatural emergency- and rolled over, breathing in his own scent from his pillow before checking the time. 

It was 2:57 AM. 

He huffed irritably and opened his messages. 

He only had one text. 

It was from Stiles. 

‘ _I’m outside. I know it’s late but I couldn’t sleep. Can I come up?_ ’ 

Derek ignored the way his wolf was grumbling smugly in his chest, ridiculously happy that he had gone to him, of all people. 

‘ **Yeah. It’s open.** ’ 

He dragged himself out of his room to go unlock the loft door, sliding it open. He left it, going to make two cups of tea. 

Moments later, he heard Stiles tug the door closed and bolt it behind him. 

He shuffled into the kitchen, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Derek gave him one of the mugs and motioned for him to sit, sipping at his own tea. 

“It’s three in the morning,” he said after a few seconds of silence. 

Stiles nodded, strangely quiet. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

Stiles sighed, “Yeah. Can’t get my head to shut up.” 

Derek hummed, “So you came here?” 

Stiles bit his lip, looking sheepish. 

Derek cocked an eyebrow at his squirming. 

“I just- I feel safe here. Protected. I sleep better on your couch than I do in my own bed and I don’t know _why_ , Der.” 

Derek tapped his nails against his cup, thoughtful. 

He always slept better with Stiles in the den too, but it was obvious why-- he couldn’t keep him out of trouble when he was twenty minutes across town at his dad’s and out of Derek’s reach. 

But when he was at the loft? 

Derek could easily bundle him up and defend him from the world. 

“It’s probably because we’re pack. Human or not, I’m still your alpha and the loft is my den. It makes sense that you would be comfortable here.” 

Stiles shrugged, a crease between his eyebrows as he finished his tea. 

Derek went to snag an extra blanket from his linen closet and made the couch up for Stiles while he washed and dried their mugs, sliding them back in place with the others. 

He toed off his sneakers and gave Derek a weak, fatigued smile. 

Derek wondered how long it had been since he actually slept. 

He laid the blanket over Stiles as he curled up on the couch, eyelids already heavily drooping. 

Derek- because he was weak and it was early and he was _so weak_ \- carded his fingers through Stiles’ soft hair, brushing it from his face and leaving his own scent behind. 

“Goodnight, Stiles,” he whispered as Stiles’ breathing leveled out. 

He returned to his own bed, falling asleep quickly with Stiles resting only moments away. 

They were both safe. 

***

Derek’s phone buzzed incessantly, his alarm urging him to get up. 

He turned it off, yawning as he set up and rolled his shoulders. He stood, tipping between his toes and the balls of his feet as he stretched lazily, forcing his tired muscles awake. 

He padded out silently into the kitchen, smiling briefly at Stiles, who was still sleeping, tucked into a ball with his mouth hanging open comically. 

Silly pup. 

Derek started his coffee machine, reading through various emails and reminders on his cell as he waited for it to brew. 

He poured himself a mug, expertly doctoring it with cream and sugar, and left the rest in the pot-- he figured Stiles would need quite a bit of it before he became fully functional. 

He busied himself with making breakfast- scrambling eggs, frying bacon, buttering toast- and let Stiles sleep. 

Just as he was plating the food, he saw Stiles yawn, blinking awake like an adorably bemused kitten. He shuffled to the kitchen, slumping over the counter one of the bar stools. 

He visibly brightened when Derek slid the food and coffee in front of him, humming as he ate. 

Derek joined him, enjoying their comfortable quiet. 

“Hey, Der?” Stiles asked finally. 

Derek looked up at him, “Hm?” 

“Thanks for letting me stay.” 

Derek smiled a little and nodded. 

“You owe me breakfast though.” 

Stiles snorted, eyes glittering as he grinned. 

Derek studiously ignored his own racing pulse and focused on the dishes.


	5. This Chapter's Gonna Be A Close One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Derek, listen to me. Focus. Stiles is going to be alright-- he and I have researched this spell before. It’s meant to inflict weakness and exhaustion, okay? The witch was trying to knock you out because you’re the alpha. He just needs to rest.”

“No!” Derek roared, charging forward and decimating the witches in his path. 

He took one off of Stiles, smoothly breaking his neck and tossing him away, but he was too late, _he was always too late_.

He threw himself onto his knees, hands skittering anxiously over Stiles’ face and chest. 

There was no wound, _why wasn’t there a wound_?

Stiles looked up at him blearily, gaze disoriented and unfocused. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked, his voice shaking. 

He cradled Stiles’ face, sweeping his thumbs over his cheeks. 

“Der?” he croaked. 

“You’re gonna be okay, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Scott shoved him aside and began checking over Stiles-- testing his pulse, searching for any damage the spell could’ve done to him. 

Lydia dragged Derek back by his wrist before he could snap at him, her nails digging into his skin and forcing him to pay attention. 

“Derek, _listen_ to me. _Focus_. Stiles is going to be alright-- he and I have researched this spell before. It’s meant to inflict weakness and exhaustion, okay? The witch was trying to knock _you_ out because you’re the alpha. He just needs to rest.” 

Derek sagged, relief and guilt mixing in his stomach, making him ache. 

“He _jumped_ in front of me-- he’s such a fucking idiot,” he whispered brokenly. 

Lydia gave him a half-smile, looking like she knew something he was only beginning to understand, “A fucking idiot who cares enough about you to risk himself like this. You should take him back to the loft-- he’ll kill us both if we let his dad see him like this.” 

Derek nodded and turned back to Scott. 

“His vitals are good. He just needs to sleep. You taking him home?” 

Derek nodded again, bending down to fit his one arm under Stiles’ knees and the other around his shoulders, easily lifting him up like he weighed nothing at all. 

“Can you give Isaac a ride back?” 

“He’s already coming with me, remember? We’re going back to mine to change and then Ali’s picking us up for date night. Boyd is driving Erica, Cora and Peter are grabbing dinner and I think Jackson and Lydia came here together so you should be able to head back now.” 

Derek tried not to think too hard about the relief filling his lungs and sent his pack off with orders to get some sleep. 

He carefully arranged Stiles in the back of the Camaro, laying him across the back seats. He balled his jacket up into a makeshift pillow, smiling softly when Stiles immediately curled up and buried his nose into it. 

The drive back was quiet aside from their breathing and the occasional sounds of traffic. He pulled into his spot, scooping Stiles back up and carrying him. 

Unlocking the door took some creative maneuvering, but he managed, fumbling a little. 

He felt better once he actually got them into the loft, the brittle feeling of his hackles standing on end fading. He bypassed the couch completely, his wolf growling when he went near it, and kicked the door to his bedroom open. 

Derek tucked Stiles into his own bed, tenderly tugging the covers over him. He pulled off his shoes and set them near his own on the floor. 

The defensive snarling in his chest quieted, the primal, possessive part of him calming like the sea as he cared for Stiles. 

He turned out the light and pulled the door nearly shut behind him. 

Derek set out to calling his betas, making sure they got home okay. 

***

Derek could hear Stiles groan and roll out of his bed. 

He continued talking to Deaton on the phone but gave Stiles a node when he peeked around the door. Stiles replied with a thumbs up- like the twelve-year-old he was- and disappeared back into his bedroom. 

Moments later, his shower started running and he bit back a smile, scribbling down what Deaton said to do for Stiles to combat the effects of the magick onto a loose sheet of paper. 

It was fairly simple-- food, water and a few days of good sleep and he should be back to normal. 

He ended the call just as he heard the shower turn off. He occupied himself with making dinner as he waited for Stiles. He turned as he heard gentle footsteps- for being so clumsy, Stiles was light on his feet- padding towards him, whatever he’d been about to say dying on his tongue. 

Stiles had raided his closet again, which he should’ve anticipated when Stiles' own shirt was destroyed by the witch, but he hadn’t expected this. 

Stiles, looking soft and peaceful, wrapped up in one of his oldest, most worn sweaters-- one that he’d had for so long that it was thoroughly saturated in his scent, even after being repeatedly washed. 

His wolf howled victoriously behind his ribs, drunk on love and power. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asked, even though he _knew_ it was. 

His voice came out raspy and rough like sandpaper. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, leaning against the counter at Derek’s side and fiddling with the sleeves that ended near just passed his palms. “I grabbed it because Voldemort torched mine. He now owes me seven bucks.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, “Voldemort?” 

Stiles sized him up, squinting, “Don’t even. I know you’re a huge fucking nerd. I’ll kidnap you and make you marathon the movies, don’t test me.” 

Derek snorted, handing him a sandwich and ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat when their fingertips brushed together, “Wouldn’t dream of it. We’d start with _Harry Potter_ and end up watching _Batman_.” 

“And you’d love it, you giant dork.” 

Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. 

He probably would. 


	6. East Side Lovers Living On The West End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t take long for sleep to claim them both.

Derek tried- and failed- to focus on whatever Marvel movie that was playing on his TV. 

Stiles brought it over to the loft after he had texted earlier that morning, demanding Derek watch it with him because he was the only one who would appreciate it properly. 

And, normally, yes, Derek would’ve been all over it, gushing at the special effects and despising the holes left sloppily in the plot. 

But how could he be expected to watch some movie when Stiles was pressed to his side, practically vibrating with excitement?

His eyes, unlike Derek’s, were glued to the screen as he followed the action, glittering. 

He’d been surprisingly quiet throughout the whole ordeal, only offering occasional commentary instead of a running conversation. 

Derek wondered offhandedly what was on his mind and if everything was okay. 

Stiles looked over, catching him staring. He flushed, cheeks pinking when Derek raised an eyebrow, turning back to the TV. 

Derek felt his lips twitch in amusement, but he swallowed his smile-- he didn’t want to make Stiles uncomfortable. 

Eventually, after a few more occurrences of stolen glances becoming eye contact and Derek growing increasingly concerned about Stiles’ speeding pulse, he reached over and swiped the remote off the coffee table with shaking hands, pausing the film. 

Derek gave him a look, “Stiles? What’s wrong?” 

“I just-” he bit his lip, turning it red. “I just need to know, alright? I _need_ to.” 

Derek turned towards him, taking both of his hands in his own and brushing his thumbs over his knuckles as he offered him his full attention. The scent of anxiety, which had been previously crowding the air around them, began to fade. 

“Know what, Stiles?” 

He blew out a quick breath, “I have feelings for you, okay? Strong, extremely non-platonic feelings. And it’s not just that you’re hot-- if I just wanted to jump you, I would be able to stop _thinking_ about it. These are like what-if-we-move-in-together feelings. Drive-the-kids-to-soccer-practice feelings. And I-” he faltered. “I need to know if you like me back. I don’t want to ruin what we have but I can’t stay in the dark like this. I need to know.” 

Derek took a second to study the way the light of the television made the amber in Stiles’ eyes nearly luminescent, how his lips were covered in little tooth-shaped scars from a lifetime of worrying at them before cupping the back of his neck and guiding him forward. 

He set a slow pace, giving Stiles an opportunity to back out and decide Derek wasn’t what he wanted as they kissed. 

He responded _beautifully_ , sliding his hands up to tangle them into Derek’s hair and huffing little breaths out into his mouth. 

Derek’s wolf was going absolutely _insane_ , howling his joy and dashing around in circles. 

Stiles pulled back after a few moments, panting into the space between them. 

“I think it’s safe to say I like you back,” Derek whispered. 

Stiles smiled, chest heaving as he leaned back in for more. 

***

Three movies and a few dozen kisses later, Derek nuzzled the top of Stiles’ head as he tucked himself under Derek’s arm. 

“You mind if I stay over? My dad is covering the night shift for Vasquez.” 

Derek breathed in, the scent of Stiles happy and safe and _his_ drowning him, “If you want. You know you’re always welcome here.” 

Stiles grinned and turned his face to press his lips to the corner of Derek’s mouth sweetly. 

Derek smiled, content. 

They ordered in- neither of them wanting to cook- and ate dinner to Stiles’ commentary about Captain America and how ‘ _he’s_ totally _gay for Bucky, Der, look at him_.’ 

Later into the night, long after the sun had set and the moon had risen in her place, Derek gave Stiles one of his shirts and a pair of basketball shorts to sleep in. 

“At some point, you’re going to have to start bringing your own clothes.” 

Stiles stuck his tongue at him, yelping when Derek snapped his teeth in his direction playfully, “Don’t front with me-- I know your wolf loves it when I wear yours.” 

“Touche.” 

Stiles shoved past him when he went to grab bedding from the linen closet without thinking, burying himself under the covers on Derek’s bed. 

He made grabby hands at Derek as he followed him in, “I’m tired and I _demand_ boyfriend cuddles, Sourwolf.” 

Derek snorted, crawling in after him. 

He sidled up behind him, pressing close as he folded one of his arms under his pillow and hooked the other around Stiles’ waist, pulling him back against his chest. 

“If your father kills me for this, I’m blaming you.” 

Stiles yawned, “He’d never kill you-- he knows how I feel. And I’m eighteen so he can’t be too upset. Maybe he’ll just kneecap you instead.” 

He laced his fingers together with Derek’s, even as he huffed out a chuckle. 

Derek tenderly nuzzled the back of his neck, eyes sliding shut. 

It didn’t take long for sleep to claim them both. 

*** 

Derek blinked awake, squinting against the light in his room. 

At some point during the night, they had come to face each other, leaving him staring at Stiles, who was apparently already awake. 

“Good morning, Der,” he murmured and leaned forward to kiss him. 

Derek smiled against his lips because, yeah, this was his new favorite way to wake up. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it! I know I kinda cheated with this, but I'll do my best to get out something longer for all you lovelies soon :) Feedback is always appreciated.  
> Until next time!  
> \- Sins
> 
> Find my Tumblr at: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/iwritesinsnotstraightlines


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